


Happy New Year's

by xgoingdownx



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, New Year's Eve, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:58:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xgoingdownx/pseuds/xgoingdownx
Summary: You and Roger attend a New Year's party, where you come back a little bit tipsy.





	Happy New Year's

You really weren’t fond of parties, but with it being New Year’s Eve you felt obligated to attend Freddie’s end-of-the-year bash. Roger insisted as well since he was most certainly going and he didn’t want to leave you at home alone. He was much more suited to rockstar lifestyle than you were; you’d be content to stay in and celebrate the new year with him at home.

You were still applying some makeup at your vanity when Roger came into the bedroom lighting up a cigarette. He was already dressed in a pair of jeans, a dark colored button up and a blazer to match. You had chosen to wear a new dress that Roger had picked out for you; it was navy blue in color, long, but slinky, velvet with a slit up the side that came mid-thigh, a deep neckline, and sleeves that stopped just above your elbows.

“You almost ready, doll?” he asked, cigarette perched between his lips.

“Yeah, can you help me with this?” you questioned, holding up a diamond necklace to him. He took it from you, gingerly sweeping your hair away from your neck so that he could more easily clasp it.

You finished putting on your lipstick and fixing your hair back to how you had it when you noticed Roger staring at you in the mirror. Even after all the years, you had been with him he still managed to make you blush. “What?” you smile sheepishly.

“You look amazing.” he breathed, setting his cigarette in the ashtray nearby.

You stepped into your heels before turning and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. You left a small lipstick stain on his face, which you promptly wiped away with your thumb. “Thank you,” you whispered, “you don’t look half bad yourself.”

“We’d better get moving, we’ll be late to the party.” He responded, taking a few more drags before stamping the smoke out.

The two of you grabbed your coats and a bottle of whiskey you promised to bring, stepping out into the cold December evening. Naturally, Roger drives, a little too fast, to Freddie’s house which seems to already be packed with people.

“Glad to see you’ve finally decided to show up!” Freddie joked, pulling you inside with a hug.

“For once it wasn’t my fault,” Roger laughed, setting the whiskey bottle on a nearby table.

You roll your eyes in his direction, “I didn’t want to look like a mess. You make such a fuss over these things I wasn’t about to feel out of place.”

The rest of the band was already in the living room with everyone else, so you made your way there to talk with Veronica and Chrissie. Most of the evening is spent chatting, drinking, with the occasional bit of dancing. By eleven fifty-five you were definitely tipsy, sitting on Roger’s lap on one of the tufted couches that sat in the large living room. You fiddled with the collar of his blazer with one hand, a glass of champagne in the other as he had a hand on your back and his opposite one rested his own glass on your knee. Despite his usual attitude towards drinking he decided to be more responsible in order for you to let loose; besides, he didn’t trust you driving his car. Your shoes had come off hours ago to prevent you from falling on your face after a few drinks and you had shaken all the volume out of your hairdo.

“I’m glad we got out tonight,” you giggled into his hair.

“That sounds like the alcohol talking, doll,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Everyone was starting to watch the clock, ready to loudly wish each other a “Happy New Year”, but you were focusing all your attention on Roger. He was so effortlessly at ease in these situations while you needed a little encouragement to feel even the least bit comfortable. As midnight came upon you everyone cheered, toasted, and kissed their significant others in rapid succession. Some partygoers were staying behind to continue celebrating into the night, but Roger thought it was best to get you home earlier rather than later.

“C’mon, love, let’s go home,” he murmured, pulling you up to your feet.

You said your goodbyes, grabbed your heels and coat and linked arms with him to walk to his car. You opted to carry your shoes rather than wear them, afraid that you’d trip over your own feet. Roger drove a little slower this time, putting more concentration on the road than earlier in the evening.

“Did you have a good time?” he mused, patting your leg briefly.

You hummed in response, suddenly feeling tired. The music and movement of the car threatened to lull you to sleep before you even got home. Soon you arrived in the driveway, Roger coming around to the passenger side to help you out of the vehicle and into the house.

As soon as you got to your bedroom, you fell onto the bed. He laughed, sitting down next to you. “Shut it, Taylor,” you groan.

“I didn’t say anything!” he shrieked. “I can’t help how cute you are when you’re a little drunk.”

You didn’t respond, instead, you felt yourself almost falling asleep. “You can’t sleep like that, love,” he mumbled. You feel him pull your upper half off the bed to remove your jewelry.

“You don’t have to do that,” you insist.

“I can’t let you pass out like this, though,” he counters, setting your necklace on the vanity. He walked back to you, helping you out of your dress and tossing it into a basket of laundry. He grabbed an old t-shirt of his for you to sleep in. You murmur a word of thanks before stumbling off to the bathroom to try to remove the remnants of your makeup. When you get back he’s already waiting for you in bed. You collapse next to him, curling into his chest.

“Happy New Year’s,” he whispered, pulling you into a kiss.

“Happy New Year’s,” you yawn, drifting off to sleep in his arms.


End file.
